


Wants and Needs

by Marauder_Lupine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexual Sherlock, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marauder_Lupine/pseuds/Marauder_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Sherlock want different things, but need each other even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wants and Needs

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing an asexual character. I am not asexual, so please accept my apologies if I've written it wrong.
> 
> Not Brit-picked, or even edited really. Point out any glaring mistakes, if you'd like.

Detective Inspector Lestrade opened the door to 221 Baker Street and slowly climbed to stairs to flat B. He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, sparing him the task of digging the keys out of his coat pocket. He walked in and removed his coat, suit jacket, and his shoes. He couldn't see Sherlock, but he could hear the tinkering of glass slides in the next room. Likely working on whatever experiment was more important than helping the Met find the bastard who left his wife black and blue before dragging his teenage son to the car and disappearing two - no, it was now Tuesday so - three days ago.

Greg scrubbed at his eyes momentarily. He shouldn't blame Sherlock, he knew. Sherlock didn't like to get too involved in cases like this anymore… Not since John and Mary had had their little girl. The precious babe had melted her godfather’s heart the second he laid eyes on her for the first time. After that, Sherlock had started devoting more and more of his time to his research and experiments.

It took too much out of him now to get so wrapped up in cases, drained him almost completely. Left him mentally exhausted for days after. He could hardly stomach the cases that involved children anymore either. He hadn't said as much of course, but Greg could see how torn up he would get when a kid was at the center of the case. They all noticed it right away. No one questioned it though. No one argued when they noticed Sherlock taking less dangerous cases either.

He’d done what he could when Greg had asked for his help with this particular case, and led the police in the right direction, but that was as involved as he would get, Greg knew. 

“You haven't found him yet,” Sherlock said from where he stood at the threshold of the kitchen and sitting room. It wasn't a question; it didn't take a genius to see that much. Lestrade turned to look at him, his face dull and in need of a shave, and shook his head. He walked past Sherlock and started to fill the kettle.

“Why are you here?” Sherlock asked, sitting back down on his stool and switching out the slides on the microscope. It wasn't accusatory.  
Greg sighed, like it took all his energy just to formulate a response to the question. He was tired. “There isn't much to do but wait for him to show up some place, so Sally ordered me home for a shower and sleep.”  
“You came here instead,” Sherlock said.  
Greg didn't respond right away. Instead he waited for the kettle to whistle and then filled two cups before dunking a teabag in each. Finally, he turned around, leaning back against the counter. “That okay?” he said folding his arms against his chest, exhaustion lacing each word, his every movement.  
Sherlock turned in his seat and looked at Lestrade, he held his gaze for a moment before saying, “Of course.” Greg nodded once, glad to not have shown up at a bad time. He didn't really want to have to go home right now. He handed Sherlock his cup of tea and watched as he went back to whatever it was he was working on at the moment.

Greg took just two sips of his tea before putting it down, folding his arms once more, and letting his chin rest against his chest as he closed his eyes. He willed the soft sounds of Sherlock scratching away at his notebook to soothe his bone-deep weariness. 

Sherlock broke their mutual silence after a while. “You're tired, Lestrade. Get some rest,” he said. “I'll wake you in an hour.”

Greg nodded and looked at the bedroom door for just a second. He was; he knew he should get some sleep. Suddenly though, more than anything, he wanted to be near Sherlock. In one short stride, he was beside the younger man, his body pressed up close. He leaned his head down to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder, his hand coming up to lightly squeeze Sherlock’s arm. 

Sherlock sat still for a moment, just taking in the added weight of Lestrade's body on his. When Lestrade let out a shaky breath, he stood up, turning the long way around to grip at the back of Lestrade’s neck before pressing their mouths together. Greg whimpered when he felt Sherlock deepen the kiss. It had been so long since Sherlock had actually initiated a kiss like this, and this was exactly what he wanted right at the moment. To revel in Sherlock’s warm touches until they quieted the buzzing in his head, quelled the aches he felt deep inside. Moments like these were rare, and always so overwhelming they could make him forget everything else going on around him.

After just a few moments though, Sherlock’s grip loosened, his hands were unsure. He pulled away, letting his arms fall to the side as he shook his head in defeat. Greg sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said, his voice broken and muffled as Greg pulled him in close and held him. “I can’t, Greg. I want to, but I can't.”  
“It's alright, Sunshine,” Greg whispered to him, running his hand in soothing circles on the other man’s back.  
Sherlock shook his head, “I can't give you what you want.” It broke Greg’s heart to hear Sherlock say that because it was true and he couldn't deny that.

Greg did want what he knew Sherlock couldn't give him, but it really didn't matter to him. Truly, it didn't. What they shared was so much more than just want.

“It’s fine, love. This is all I need,” Greg told him, holding him even closer. And it was. “Just you. Just us, yeah?” He pressed his lips to Sherlock’s temple and let them rest there. He felt Sherlock’s arms tighten around him, gripping his shirt.

It wasn't often Sherlock allowed his insecurities to get to him enough to breakdown like this. Greg guiltily pushed back the thought that he'd maybe sent the wrong signals a moment ago. He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed it, even knowing Sherlock was only doing it for his benefit. But he hated when it led to this; he hated making Sherlock - normally so strong, if maybe a little unsure of himself at times - feel so weak. 

He wanted Sherlock, but not like he needed him. Not like he needed Sherlock’s trust, or his loyalty, his pride, his concern, his very presence. Greg wanted Sherlock, but not like he needed Sherlock’s love. And he had no doubt that he had that. He had Sherlock’s heart like Sherlock had his. Perhaps they didn't say that often, but they both knew it.

Everything else - it didn't matter, it could be dealt with.

He felt Sherlock take a deep breath against him. “This is enough,” Greg told him, and meant every word. He continued to whisper sweet nothings that really meant everything to them. He let out a breath when he felt Sherlock start to relax, smiled when he felt Sherlock's hand scratch at the hairs at the base of his skull, he took in a breath and held it when he felt warm lips press against his neck.

A kiss not meant to excite, but to remind Greg that he was needed; that his presence, his patience, his body even, like this, was appreciated. That he wasn't to blame, no one was to blame. It was a sweet expression to remind Greg that he meant something different, something more to Sherlock. It was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite Lestrade is sad, hurt Lestrade doing his best to take care of people. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Leave a note down below. Much appreciated.


End file.
